Quicksand
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: AU! Part I of III. It was so easy to sink into the habit, almost like quicksand.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Soul Eater or the lyrics to _Medicine _by Kim Leoni.

**Quicksand  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

* * *

"_I don't even know your name  
so I will call you medicine...  
You can ease my pain."_

* * *

_**1a**_

"I...don't usually do this." She whispered as his hands slid up the smooth skin of her thighs appreciatively, her skirt bunching around her waist. They came to rest on her rear, before he heaved her onto a closed box within the closet they had stumbled into in their drunken haze.

"That's cool." He murmured distractedly, tearing her halter top off her body roughly. She had half a mind to smack him for destroying her only piece of outgoing clothing. "I don't either."

Her trembling hands hastily reached down to undo his pants instead. "I - !" He crashed his mouth upon hers before she could speak, distracting her from her goal for a split second. She was reminded when his hands greedily clutched her breasts, and she eagerly pulled him closer by wrapping her legs tightly around his waist.

The bass reverberated through them strongly, pounding in their lust-hazed minds. They could feel the suffocating heat from outside the confinements of the closet begin to close in on them; thickening the air that thrummed between them.

A desperate, roiling, heat consumed their souls. Her pains were suddenly numbed, her thoughts put to a grinding halt. Alone in the darkness of the closet, breathing in each others musky scent, need enveloped them in the form of shaking hands and caught-up chokes of pleasure.

Grabbing his shirt, pulling him close enough that their chests pressed together, she slurred faintly: "Do it."

He grinned, wickedly, revealing a jaw-full of sharpened teeth. "With pleasure."

Her cries were drowned by the synthetic sounds that came from the bustling dance floor on the other side of the door.

* * *

_**1b**_

She had to tell her someday.

It had been three days since that encounter.

Certainly her closest friend wouldn't scold her _too_ badly for her sudden interest in screwing random strangers, right...? Even if it was only _one _stranger, and even if she was certain she'd hunt him down for round two one day?

"You did _what_?" Tsubaki gasped, as they both strode down the sidewalk and toward the impressive building ahead. It shadowed the morning light with its height, casting a cold shadow over them. It appeared empty, given the time of day, but the occasional student could be seen strolling through the universities many passages. "_That's _where you were the entire night? In the _janitors_ _closet _having s-sex with a – a _stranger_?"

"Um. Basically." Maka nodded meekly, wincing when Tsubaki gasped again.

"Maka-chan, that's really... really _irresponsible_." Tsubaki nervously said, wringing her hands. "Did you even use protection? What if he... he had an STD?"

"Don't be silly, Tsubaki, everything's fine!" Maka laughed, admitting she felt fantastic after that night. Her troubles had melted away for those hours and rushed back to her the next day, along with a massive hangover, but the euphoria and calm had lingered long after. "I got myself checked the next day and I got the results today! I'm completely fine, Tsubaki!"

"Good." She sighed, in relief. Then worry clouded her eyes once more. "But... this isn't like you, Maka-chan. You don't do this – that night was supposed to be for you to unwind, not to..." She bit her lip.

"But I _did_ unwind." Maka smiled at her, reassuringly. "You worry too much, Tsubaki. It was just a one-night stand. It'll never happen again – heck, I may never even _see _him again!"

"But that doesn't explain your reckless behavior." Tsubaki persisted. "Maka-chan, you don't _do _this! This isn't like you! Aren't you always saying that women... women who do such things are nothing but garbage?"

Maka was quiet for a moment. "Women who do it for recreational purposes. I did it because I – needed it."

Her eyes softened, and Tsubaki sympathetically patted her shoulder. "Maka-chan... if this is about Hiro..."

"It isn't!" Maka snapped, defensive. She clutched her textbook to her chest tightly. "It's not about him – I could care less about him! He could rot in hell, for all I care!"

But Tsubaki knew that wasn't true.

Because Maka _loved _Hiro, and it had been the only reason she had agreed to her offer to unwind at a famous club by downtown Death City. An offer Maka had rejected many times previous.

It was supposed to be a night to forget about their break up, to forget the pain that came with loving.

To forget she had ever broken her self-oath.

"Okay, Maka-chan. I believe you."

Even though she really didn't.

Even though she had this terrible feeling her friends erratic behavior was only going to worsen from herein.

* * *

**A.N: **Just a warning, the chapters are pretty short, pretty to-the-point, and just something to leisurely read through. I created this story in a day, and although Maka may be slightly OOC, keep in mind this _is _an AU. I shall do my best to keep them in believable bounds, however. I hope you all enjoy it :D

_Scarlett._


	2. Chapter 2

**Quicksand  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

* * *

_**2a**_

* * *

There was a nostalgia that came with being in the club scene once more. The throbbing bass, the hypnotic sounds that drove her to the edge every single time, and a dizzying, pleasant, _liberating_, haze that came with tipping that velvet fire down her throat...

The dress was black this time. It clung to her slim figure provocatively, revealing long, smooth, legs; pale flesh that many greedily stared at as she downed her fourth drink. Her hair was pulled back in a smart bun, stray curls of ashy blonde cascading down her bare shoulders. The faint sheen of sweat from the sweltering air in the club shone on her skin with every cycle of that strobe light; with every pulsing beat that echoed through her body.

But the bitterness didn't stray from its place in her heart. It ate her up, weakened her, every time she saw couples cuddling or smiling that sickly love-struck smile.

"Maka!" Tsubaki shouted over the bass. Her face flushed, eyes twinkling under the lights, Tsubaki said: "I'll be right back – I'm going to the bathroom, okay? Don't move!"

"Okay!" Maka answered, world spinning.

She probably couldn't stand anymore.

But that didn't necessarily matter: it wasn't her intention to dance tonight.

It was all _his_ fault she was a mess; all his _fucking_ fault she was a wreck lost in a maze with seemingly no way out. But he couldn't take all the blame: it was also _her _fault for being gullible enough to believe him. It was her fault for falling down that same black hole her mother had.

But with his crystalline eyes, richly blue, lively with emotion, it was difficult not to fall. That disarming smile; soft enough for her to put her trust in him. His gentle hands that brushed her hair back, that had once held her hand—!

Different hands, bigger, _elegant_, appeared before her vision. They grabbed the glass she had drunkenly tipped to her glossed lips, taking it from her.

"What—?"

"Getting piss drunk without supervision isn't really smart, or cool."

His eyes were rogue; a delicious burgundy that promised the numbness she desired. His smile was no smile: it was a wicked grin, revealing jagged teeth that had once sunk into the soft flesh of her neck and ripped moans from her.

"That's _none _of your business!" Maka deflected, snatching her drink from his hand. She finished it, slamming the glass on the table with a relieved sigh. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Having fun?" He sarcastically replied. "That's what people usually do when they go to clubs. Doesn't look like you're having much fun, though." He added, distastefully looking at her glass.

"I _was_ going to dance..." Maka mumbled, casting a weary glance at the floor that swayed with the mass of party-goers and drug addicts.

"Now you're getting fucked up?" He snorted derisively, stepping into her personal space boldly. She leaned back until the edge of the table dug into her spine. He caged her, his arms preventing escape, and he nudged her legs apart with his knee as she sucked in a breath. A hungry glint in his red eyes, a spark that reflected in her own equally, made her toes curl in anticipation. "That's not cool."

"What do you care?" Maka whispered, thickly. "You don't even know me."

"That's where you're wrong," he purred, his hand reaching under the thin material of her silk dress to tease the edge of her panties. Fire swelled inside her; infectious, as his breathing labored with the effort of containing his own lust. "Right... _Maka_?"

Their mouths clashed roughly right after.

Tsubaki didn't find her again until the next morning, somehow having been dumped in her apartment, sprawled on her bed with her underwear missing and her black dress hanging down her waist messily.

* * *

_**2b**_

They had an on/off relationship – that was how Tsubaki defined it as.

They fought, they broke up, they apologized, they became the ideal couple again for a few days before it all fell apart again.

It was a cycle Tsubaki knew only sunk the knife deeper into her friends gut.

And it was an endless grapple for stability, as she watched Hiro piece her back together only to inevitably break her again.

"Maka-chan..." Tsubaki whispered concernedly, watching Hiro happily take Maka's hand in his and lead her down the sidewalk; to a local cafe for a date, Hiro had cheerfully told her, because they had worked it out and they were going to try again.

But here was something different about this reconciliation: the way Maka rigidly held his hand, the way she avoided eye contact and the way conflict gathered in the depth-less pits of her olive eyes.

This was what she wanted, Maka thought.

She loved Hiro.

She did.

Maka glanced down at their twined hand, then the way his mouth moved around words she couldn't hear over the panicked pounding of her heart. Swallowing down guilt, _shame_, Maka paused and pulled him down suddenly, pressing her lips against his as she had once loved.

It wasn't the same.

"L-let's go – It's late and the coffee shop is probably packed by now!" Maka hastily said, turning away from him almost immediately. He looked confused by her sudden rejection but shrugged it off and followed.

It _wasn't_ the same.

She wanted – _needed – _the roughness of _his _kisses.

She felt addicted to his sharp teeth, the euphoric pain they drew when they bit into her skin; her neck.

Hiro's hands felt scrawny and boyish compared to the broad, elegant, hands of that stranger; the way his fingers had grabbed fistfuls of her hair, snapping her head back for his lips to trace down the curve of her neck in a parody of gentleness before he rammed into her—!

"Hey, Maka, are you sure you're okay?" Hiro's concerned blue – _not red – _eyes caught her absent gaze. "You've been spacing out a lot... are you sure you're not sick or something?"

"Ah... no, I'm fine." Maka forced a smile.

Then she felt it – on her back, burning through her like a lighter did to paper.

That crackling passion; those terribly _wonderful _and endless pits of shattered ruby flecked with black tarmac—!

Maka watched him, who stood on the other side of the street, the rim of his coffee cup resting against his lips passively. A motorcycle stood beside him; a beast compared to the other scrawny, downsized, versions of his own. His leather jacket hid his defined, _strong,_ physique. His hair, she saw, was a blinding white, kept back by a black headband. She had not been hallucinating those times: his hair was honestly white and she wondered if it was natural for a moment.

"– aka!"

"What?" Maka turned back to Hiro, who was now scowling.

"What's wrong? Maka, is something bothering you? You know you can tell me!"

Yes, something was wrong, but this was something she could _not _tell him. She couldn't tell him she wanted to continue staring at _him_, to convey her sudden _want _for that stranger through sole eye-contact. To be away from _him_, closer to _that _which could fuck her as if he actually cared; which could make her lungs gasp for air, her vocals strain as she _screamed _for release—!

"Ah ha ha!" Maka forced a laugh, clasping her hands behind her back. She strode forward, waving Hiro over quickly. "I was just thinking about today's test! I think I got a low score on it! That's all!"

Relief flooded Hiro's face. "Oh, so that's it. You probably did great, Maka – you're a genius! I bet you passed with flying colors! In fact, I _bet _on it!" He beamed, reaching for her hand again.

Maka squeezed his hand but quickly let it go, slipping her own into the pockets of her hoodie instead.

Maka looked down.

She still felt _his_ searing stare on her back.

Her throat tightened, clammy hands clenching inside her pockets.

"Mm."

The lines of addiction and release had suddenly become smudged.


	3. Chapter 3

**Quicksand  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

* * *

_**3a**_

* * *

She was here again, but it was different this time.

Her flats hurt her toes. They were a size smaller than what she liked but they were all Tsubaki had at the moment. She had wanted to wear heels because _that man _had once hissed that heels made her legs look sexy but it was different now.

She couldn't be pleasing men she should have never gotten involved with in the first place – especially if she was a _taken _woman now.

There were things Maka would be willing to do despite herself – like screw a random stranger, for instance – but cheating was intolerable. It was not negotiable: she was in a relationship, and she honored that no matter how much she felt as if Hiro had tied a metal wire around her neck and tightened it with every coming day.

The bass pounded, laughter abounded, and the drinks continued to file down her throat; each one more numbing than the last. This cycle hadn't changed. But the anticipation for _him _to come and distract her from her drinking festered enormously.

She hated it.

"Hey, Maka, wanna' dance?" Hiro shouted over the bass.

"No, thanks." Maka answered, holding her third – _he thought it was her first – _drink on her lap innocently. Her dress was still back, despite Hiro's instance that emerald would compliment her eyes, and this new dress – _HE had torn her other ones in his impatience – _covered up more than usual.

Her shoulders weren't bare and the dress reached modestly low on her body. It only allowed a teasing strip of creamy skin to show on her back from the diagonal and ragged rips. It was a safe dress, unlike the dresses she had worn previously, which had just _begged_ to be torn off by _his _elegant hands—!

"C'mon, Maka, is this really all you do when you come here with Tsubaki?" Hiro groaned. "She said you liked to dance! That's why I came – to _dance_!"

"Then go dance!" Maka snapped. "No one's stopping you!"

"Come with me!"

"Not right now, maybe later!" Maka searched the dance floor. "Look - there's Tsubaki! She has a lot of friends here, you can jump in and dance with the rest!"

Hiro grunted.

He had_ no idea_ what she did when she came here; what she had done _various_ times with that nameless man with the elegant hands and burning eyes. They had exchanged names before, Maka remembered, but in their intoxicated state, Maka had only remembered his name enough to scream it when he fucked her. But she was certain he said it was _Soul_, which she believed was an alias because who called their kid _Soul_?

Guilt swelled suddenly.

She should not be thinking about another man – especially in such a sinful way – when she was with Hiro. It just wasn't right.

By her fourth glass, Maka realized Hiro had left.

She searched for him, somewhat nervous and annoyed he'd left without saying anything, and found him with a perky blonde girl instead of being with Tsubaki and her pack of friends. A resentment burned in her chest, made her eyes drop to her lap. That same blossom of ache rooted itself in her sternum and grew until she was ordering harder liquors and cursing him in her mind once more.

The urgency to stomp over to him, to punch his lights out for doing the _same damn thing again, _the same damn thing her _father _did to her _mother_, wasn't as overwhelming as before but it was still there. She had actually done it before, screamed herself hoarse with curses and punched his jaw, until they broke it off and she was left grieving his loss once more.

She slammed her glass on the table.

Tears threatened to blur her vision again.

It _hurt. _

So many years telling herself she would never let it happen, yet she had fallen down the same accursed path as her mother! She had fallen for a complete playboy, a _bastard_, and she was taking the abuse like a docile little doe.

The glass cracked slightly in her hand.

"You know, I'm starting to think you're an alcoholic."

Maka froze.

She looked up and got a good view of him this time.

His hair was not restrained by his headband tonight. His shirt was button-up, a crimson red, matched along with black slacks. Had he always looked this way? Handsomer under the multicolored lights of the club; an unsolvable puzzle with his passionless eyes?

Those eyes hardened. "You're crying."

Maka flinched and looked away, wiping her cheeks stubbornly. "No, I'm not. I'm sweating."

"...Must be a real exercise to drink." She caught the tightness in his tone.

"Yeah."

That fire kindled within her with his every shift; when she felt he had decided to _casually_ rest his elbow on the table and lean against it coolly; _close to her. _He was close enough that she felt his body heat radiate from him and it frankly wound her up with treacherous anticipation.

"Your friend not here this time?"

"Who—Tsubaki?"

"Yeah—her, I guess."

"Oh, no, she's here." Maka mumbled, glancing sidelong to the bustle of people. "She's dancing somewhere in there with a few friends."

"Shouldn't you be in there, too?" He drawled. "Not drowning in your misery like some high school girl because her boyfriend has the attention span of a fish?"

Maka glowered. "I'm _not _drowning in my misery, you jerk!"

He smirked. "Yeah, that's why you're shooting whiskey."

Maka stiffened but pushed her half-empty glass of liquor away from him. The aroma was pungent; she should have known better. "Don't you have something better to do than insult random strangers?" She hissed.

"Strangers, huh..."

Maka swallowed thickly at his wistful tone.

"Yes, strangers." She repeated, firmly.

"Strangers who screw every other weekend, right?" He boldly stated, and she flinched. He was in front of her in an instant; intoxicating with his musky scent and smoldering gaze. Her heart shook when his fingers brushed down her bare arm.

He was toxic, she realized_._

He was her temptation, like a drug.

Breathing laboriously, heart pounding with excitement and dread, muscles tensing with anticipation and unease, Maka stared into his eyes and realized they really _were _flecked with black. She had never had such an explosive reaction with Hiro – there was no real _need_ with Hiro, it was more passive and neutral considering their clashing personalities.

_Easier._

"What makes this night different than any of the others?" He demanded.

"I... have a boyfriend."

"So? He's probably fucking someone right now."

"No – he's _not_! He wouldn't do that to me!" Maka cried, knowing her words were empty because Hiro had disappeared and the perky blonde girl was nowhere to be seen.

"That's why you were crying, right?" He whispered, harshly. "Because he loves you so fucking much?"

"STOP!" Maka shoved him away, trembling. "I'm not doing this again. I – I don't cheat! I'm not unfaithful!" Maka shouted, eyes shut to keep in tears. "I'm not like _him_!"

Not like Hiro, not like her father – she'd already taken to a nasty habit of sleeping with a stranger, there was no reason to encourage this behavior and _cheat, _too_._

"...Fine."

Maka sucked in a breath.

Her stomach dropped.

She felt as if she had just committed the biggest mistake in her life.

"You're right – cheating isn't cool. Sorry for bothering you. See ya' around."

And just like that, she was stolen of his scent; of his heat; of the fingers that had incurred such explosive reactions within herself. He was probably right: Hiro was likely exchanging saliva with some random girl while she sat patiently by the bar, shooting drinks, stewing in her gloominess, instead of doing something rebellious...

Instead of taking one last inhale, one last _hit_, of that drug she called upon every weekend for the past month.

"W...wait!" Maka gasped, looking up desperately.

But he had disappeared amongst the crowd of strangers.

* * *

_**3b**_

She couldn't take this.

It had to stop.

She had visited the club the next weekend, along with Hiro and Tsubaki (and her own boyfriend, a hyperactive boy she had meet while dancing called Black Star), but _he _had not been there.

She had sat in her usual seat, swirling a glass of whiskey in her hand.

She hadn't drunk much.

But he had never come.

Hiro had eventually grown bored of her idle activity of watching the club scene; of taking leisure drinks of her glass, of _communicating_ with him, but since Hiro was more of a physical person than a talkative one it didn't work for long. Their conversations were snipped and less than half of what they used to be, anyway.

This time, when she found him dancing with a girl, finishing a glass of what Maka presumed had been the fruity drink he'd ordered her a while ago, that bitterness crawled up her throat and tightened in her chest but she stalled it.

This time, she watched passively.

This time, she realized something.

She knew him well but he hardly knew her at all. It had always been about him, him, him...

They were practically _strangers_.

He didn't really want her – not like she had wanted him. If he did, he wouldn't have done the things he had: cheat on her, lie, ignore her, argue with her even when he was wrong.

He simply liked her attention.

And Maka refused to go down the same path her mother had chosen; not if she could help it.

Maka reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

Her finger hovered over the keys, unsure and unsteady.

Was this the right thing to do? She had always wanted to be like her mother but... _not like this._

Her resolved cemented, Maka typed:

_It's not working out, Hiro. I tried, but it's just not the same. We should see other people. _

She snapped her phone shut and slid out of her chair, entering the mass and losing herself within the loud sounds of the bass and hooting cheers.

The stranger that knew her better than her boyfriend never came.


	4. Chapter 4

**Quicksand  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

* * *

_**4a**_

* * *

"YAHOO!" Black Star hooted, grinning like a maniac. "That's what I'm talkin' about! You aren't such a dork, after all, Maka! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

"SHUT UP BLACK STAR!" Maka snapped, finishing the glass the hyperactive boy had handed her only too eagerly. She turned to her friend, who had been watching with a nervous twiddle of her fingers. "Tsubaki! Tell him to be quiet – he's attracting a lot of attention!"

"Of course I am!" Black Star smirked. "_Who doesn't _wants to check out a god like me?"

"Black Star, please—!"

"C'mon – let's dance, Tsubaki! Let's make them jealous!" Black Star cackled, pulling her into the writhing cesspool of overdosing clubbers and sex. Maka watched them leave with a bright smile, Tsubaki tossing her a concerned look over her shoulder.

She was still worried because of her recent break up.

She was probably hesitant to leave her alone after Maka told her it was _for real _this time.

But Maka only waved her away, the high of the drinks finally kicking in.

Freedom was wonderful.

The strobe lights cast a delirious haze of colors that she fell into as the bass pulsed in rhythm with her heart. Cheeks flushed, breath heavy, sweat trailing down her neck and running its path down her bare back, Maka had never felt more alive than she did then.

She had never felt so _free._

* * *

_**4b**_

It had been roughly an hour since Tsubaki and Black Star had been left to their own devices within the mass of clubbers.

And Maka wasn't all that concerned by her solitude; not while she was being basically _squished _amongst other party-goers. It made feeling lonely almost impossible.

Maka drained the cup of beer, bouncing with the crowd as the track took on a wild beat. Her hair had fallen out of its bun, threads of her hair stuck to her cheek as intoxication reached its limit.

"Hey! Here – !" A guy said, handing her a curious pill with a sleazy grin.

Maka looked at it, pausing mid-step. "What's that?"

"Just take it, babe, it'll make you feel _fantastic_."

Before she could open her mouth, another voice interrupted.

"What do you wanna' do? Overdose her, you retarded fuck? Get the hell away from her!"

"Whoa, man, chill!" The guy defensively said, although he turned away and continued his hunt for more prey.

Maka turned to find _him –_ in torn up jeans and a striped button-up this time – glaring the dealer away with his menacing crimson eyes. She suddenly subdued, unsure of how to react to his reappearance. But she was sure of one thing: she had never been so relieved, so _giddy, _to see someone.

"Drinking away your misery again?" He asked, looking at her.

He didn't near her this time, she noticed, he kept his distance.

"Nope!" She brightly smiled, surprising him. "I'm _celebrating_!" She laughed, shoving her empty glass in his hands. Their fingers brushed and she felt a tremble race down her arms pleasantly. "Go get me another glass, please?"

"Who do you think I am? Your butler or something?" The guy gruffed but Maka watched him turn on his heel and head over to the bar obediently. She stayed where she was, swaying until her sways synched with the rapid beats of the track.

Bodies bumped into her; surrounded her as the electronic sounds became overbearing with their noise. Her blood was racing through her veins, through her heart, yet somehow not reaching her brain as the weightless spread through her being like cancer.

Hands grabbed her shoulders. "Hey – here's your goddamn drink!"

"Oh – thanks!" Maka reached behind her and took it from his hand, the golden liquid spilling over the side and splattering the floor. But Maka took no notice: she swallowed a mouthful and beamed, bouncing with the beat.

"Whoa – you're spilling the whole thing, idiot – !" He sucked in a breath when she wobbled and fell back against him. The heat in the room suddenly seemed to skyrocket, sweat shining on her forehead as his hands gripped her waist to steady her. Instead of quickly jumping away, Maka sunk back into his chest, pressing the cup against her chest tightly.

It was silent for a second, as her heart leaped to her throat and he breathed in measured breaths.

"Where's your boyfriend?" He asked, tonelessly.

"What boyfriend?" She mumbled.

There was pause, a moment when the synthetic beats didn't penetrate the thump of her heart, didn't ease the sudden anxiety clouding her mind, before she felt his hands grip her hips with renewed vigor. He rammed her against the evidence of his arousal; a relief like nothing washing through her body just as her blood sang for him.

"Finally ditch the loser?" He whispered into her ear, his arm snaking around her waist to keep her in place. She breathed shallowly, gasping when he ground into her; her sex throbbing with need at every grind. "He didn't deserve you, anyway."

She groaned when his teeth bit into her neck, a sensation she had long missed, and his long fingers brushed over her perked breasts; teasingly, igniting that feral desire within her once more.

"What..." Maka sucked in a breath when his hand splayed on her flat stomach, made its way down slowly.

"What was that?" He murmured, pausing. She was pressed against his chest tightly, his arms around her possessively. The buoyant crowd noticed nothing; continuing their raving, their crazed dance. And she felt safe in this strangers arms; like nothing could ever harm her again.

"Your.. name." Maka finished, some of the haze clearing. "What's your name again?"

"Don't remember my name? I'm hurt."

"Just tell me!" Maka grouched. "I think I misheard you the first time."

"No, you didn't. It's Soul." He replied, amused. He snickered when she gawked. "Soul Eater."

"Soul Eater – are you serious?" She had screamed _that _out all those days ago? Soul sounded familiar but the second part sure didn't.

"Kind of." He grinned against her neck, making her scowl. "I go by Soul Eater Evans."

That sounded right.

She finally had a name to associate to this nameless man who had eased her pain for so many nights; who had blew out the flame for _him. _This time she would remember it, Maka promised.

Maka turned suddenly, her fingers clutching the front of his shirt. His arms rested around her waist, watching her with veiled curiosity as she contemplated this far more intimate display. She looked up, into his black-flecked eyes, and smiled.

"My name is Maka Albarn."

And she saw his lips twitch into a small smile.

"Yeah. I know, _Maka_..." He whispered against her lips. The lights shadowed them, as he pulled her through the crowd and to their usual rendezvous. This time she eagerly pushed _him_ inside, shutting the door behind her with her foot, and shoving him against the wall with an impatience that made him grin lazily.

"Miss me?" He tore her dress off without preamble, his mouth latching to the skin that had haunted his dreams for the past few weeks.

"You have no idea." Maka groaned and clutched him closer, her fingers threading through his hair in a familiar fashion. He left his mark down her neck; their breaths intermingling as they crossed the line between strangers to acquaintances. "_Soul._"

She didn't mind falling into this temptation anymore.

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, I know Maka was OOC. I felt that, since this was an AU! and the situation called for it, Maka's tweaked character is justified lol Besides, keep in mind she and Soul have had this casual-sex thing going on for a few weeks until Hiro came in... but now they're back to it, so they can develop their relationship a little more :D I wrote this because it had been bugging me for a while and, although the characterization is off, I admit, it was still fun to write something that isn't directly manga-related.

Hope you all enjoyed it, too!

_Scarlett._


End file.
